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ryn Oct 2014
Give me a minute
To read the stars
Lamenting in their stories
Their laboured twinkling far and sparse

Give me this moment
To stumble and swoon
My branches reaching for
The faraway moon

Give me a while
To be one with the universe
Hear the colliding planets
As they spill their mournful verse

Give me some time
To plot my rightful place
Within my uncharted galaxy
And collapsing space...
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2018
why I love certain men


it’s a raining and writing Saturday,
a washout for the beach visitors who chose their
calendar lottery tickets poorly

but hurrah and huzzah for the poet
in the no-sun-today-room with
steam collecting on his face from his 20 oz. Canadian mug,
the rest of him cozied neath a
wooly mohair knitted and tasseled blanket,
from a now naked and shivering alpaca goat in Turkey or Tibet

perhaps we’ll make a tiny dent
in the 1319 poems,
in the ‘sorta started to do’ list

****.
new one sneaks in demanding immediate satisfaction
and threatening my mind’s incarceration unless,
serviced and unleashed as the Frenchies say

Frites, immédiatement!: (french fries, now!)

I love most men; certain men more than others,
not because they are soft to the touch,
look great in thigh highs, can fix a backhoe,
lay hands on animals, just as they do upon their grandchildren,
or write better poetry than me,
because
they make me weep from zealous delight at
their capricious unprecedented constancy of their
honorable actions

they are soft to the core, which is itself
wrapped in a leather soldered steel,
which defines them by their self-questing constant,
asking themselves preface and postface,
doing it well, in between,

what is the honorable thing?

this honor idea of which writ previous
doesn’t dissolve - indeed grows crescendo stronger,
like the miracle of the Yom Kippurs rams horn
crying out to heavens at the concluding end  
on the holiest judgement day,
a shofar miracle for it inhumanly grows ever louder,
ceasing only when nightfall marks a new day begun,
reminding both sinners and saviour each,
to inquire of their colluding selves on this forgiveness-giving day,

what is the honorable thing?

some are borrowers and some lenders,
of anything, the substance or the whom matters not,
but the bonding bonfire from which the deal is done,
is of a uncharted chemical organic chemical matter unrecognized
but millennium ancient


here I stop

the call to breakfast must be obeyed,
for it’s with lovely made, menu man-poet requested,
this is too an honorable thing to do,
and the 1319 half blood~half writs poking my eyes,
can be faced with new courage afterwards
on a perfect raining and writing Summer Saturday
for the next one hopefully and woefully

may not come till the September (Rosh Hashanah/Jewish New Year) when acorns fall

certain men will greet that fall Sabbath/ New Years Day,  
when Atonement begins, a ten day process to the final conclusion,
by asking of everything living and of every act human performed,
for the forgiveness requested inherent in the absolute bar setting of

what is the honorable thing?

which by the by,

is why I love certain women too...

and all who are honorable
will read this honorific and remain
clueless as to whom it is addressed...

oh god, I do so love that best!

what could signal honor even more...
patty m May 2014
Turn out the lights

and let me drown

in passion's darkness.

Play blind

and read my body's braille;

find me in pieces

letting fingers

paint designs.

Crawl beneath my skin and

fill my hunger.

Mold me, make me

malleable and melting

as you permeate my senses.  

. . . And l will trace you too,

traveling across your uncharted map.


Darling you are my ocean

my new country, each inch of you

touched and tasted as new routes

are discovered and pinnacles climbed.

Close your eyes

and feel the tickling of my unseen hand

through the darkness

of this forever night.
ryn Feb 2015
.
•...mouth
wide  op-
en, glis-
tening...
in the li-
ght•aw-
aiting to
swallow
this lone
piece of parch-
ment•on it i've scribbled
all my heart could write•bea-
ring sweet nothings, sure and si-
lent•now... take this scroll•down
your neck... it'll effortlessly slide...
•to the core of your very soul•my
message would  follow your gui-
de•your opening i'd then gladly
seal •so your contents would...
remain guarded • time is now
to set adrift all i feel...•....now
ride the waves through jour-
ney uncharted•let the curr-
ents take you• let the tides
and winds be your friends
• ...  my quiet well wishes
would see you through •
in hopes that you would
be received by my love's
deserving... and...  open



*hands•
ryn Feb 2015
I wish me invisible
I want to disappear
I am but a damsel
Parading in knight's gear

I want to be the unknown
I need to be again a stranger
I wish my secrets not shown
Back to a time when it was clearer

I wish to be a zephyr
I want to be felt not seen
I need to be less of the liar
At least lesser than I have been

I crave the comfort of solitude
I long for the absence of physical contact
I miss the tears that once had ensued
Somehow then I was more intact

I want to be an undetermined star
I need to be unnamed in an uncharted galaxy
I wish to retreat behind my avatar
So you won't see the real me

I wish me invisible
I want to be protected by ambiguity
I need to disappear from this debacle
Into the welcoming arms of anonymity
Kelly McManus Jun 16
I remember,
when the things they taught me,
seemed to mean something,
until the day came when I realized,
the things they taught me;
they didn't believe in any way,
so what I was taught,
meant less than nothing.
Now I'm back to square one,
following the sun,
with the wind in my sails,
going my own way, on a calm sea,
with dolphins leading me,
away from the hypocrisy.
                                                Kelly McManus
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
Keep rolling, like sailing, rowing the science voyage.
Discovering a new discovery, then much happens:
a new crescent, new moon on a new turn is found,
yet a night to be invented eclipses it furthermore.

Will the voyage float at the newest dark energy frontier?
Will it now pierce verily the ******-skinned heaven’s last barrier
that divides the seen and unseen, holds the uncharted water?
Will it by design decode or recite the word, the language
the lock is coded in, the very command written on the stone?
Till then it won’t move, nor does one see the skin black or white,
and till then one won’t stop the sun lighting up the night!
The poem is from the book Zero and One: The Relativity of Science and Poetry available on Amazon.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Thoughts tempered with the fires of life,
dreams of youth vanquished, replaced by reality.
Happily ever after endings, an illusion we’ve been nursed on,
lives spent weaning ourselves away.

New paths uncharted and unfamiliar,
fear and doubt direct our moves, beyond world’s end.
Holding on to what we know, sacrificing what could be,
unknowingly binding ourselves to our past.

Can I find the clue to guide my way,
someone to lead me forward to my future?  
Let me feel renewed and alive,
so I search beyond my limits for my life in you.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
laura Oct 2018
i guess i still miss you
but talking’s for functioning people
when we stand stark
at the vertices of our dog days
we don’t say anything at all
in uncharted autumn
we still have a little sun left
trying to make sense
of the irregularities that compact
this relationship
into tiny little boxes we check
every once and awhile
ostentatiously
ryn Sep 2014
Doom train hurtling along
Through the fog in my mind
Towing freight, rectangular and oblong
Dim headlights, you're travelling blind

Five carriages long, excluding engine and caboose
Metal against metal, spitting sparks on steel
Undetermined path, rails will choose
Chugging along on dirt covered wheels

In the cabin, I see the light
Emanating from your furnace
Swallowing up coals in your gaping bite
Tongues of flames licking the surface

Fire breathing, spewing thick black smoke
Almost unseen, against the dark of night
A long plumy arm as if extending to choke
And plug the remaining sources of light

Meandering precariously on tracks that weave
Over uncharted, unfathomable terrain
Your store, so reliably you heave
Worming your way through my brain

What's in that cargo of yours?
What lies within those boxcars?
What drives you to diligently run your course?
What fuels you to travel near and far?

Loads of self pity, self loathing and self reproach
Snaking your way to an unknown destination
Screeching brakes as if a stop you approach
Herald the train of dubious intentions

Light is upon you, dark will dissipate
Your plumes starting to lessen from your stack
The dawn breaking horizon you didn't anticipate
To see another charging towards you on this very same track...
See "Light Train"
See "Collision Course"
Derek Leavitt Aug 2016
When she's around... time slows down... almost to the point of complete nothingness... I look at her and think, is there truly anything more gorgeous?..

When She's around, I feel safe and that anywhere could be called home. Her eyes; a curious stare... my hand twitches, longing to touch her curlicious hair.

Our gaze's meet, and I find myself drifting... closer and closer to her feet. Her lips just within a leanings reach. Her dimples nearly touching my cheek... Her sent... 'Heavenly'.

I run my hand through her hair, and I hear her gasp, a sudden rush and a cool breeze changes the whole atmosphere. Her legs grab my waist and I stare into the pupils. She leans in, our eyes drift shut but our lips finally meet and I feel the grip of her legs tighten around my waist...

I walk forward until her chest presses against mine and her back makes love with the wall. I wrench her hair and kiss down her chest, real slow.

I mumble sweet nothingness into her ear whilst I caress her bare *******... Her legs decend and wrap around mine and I hear her begin to beg. The second my tongue makes contact with the nape of her neck her hips grind tight against mine.

This is not routine, she is trembling. Brewing like a steam pipe, compressed, ready to burst. I slip my tongue into her mouth and open it as I **** the air clean from her lungs.

It is at this point her legs curls inward and rips me back, causing me to fall and back crashes against the floor and she lands right on my lap. I grab her waist as she grips onto me.

The night is young, and ready to be explored. Our quest into each other will bring us beyond the star systems to a plane uncharted and unlike any other, ventured before. The night sky will bear witness to our event and the stars will weep out of sheer awe from beauty. Life, being made in a single dance of love and our moans, and wails and cries of ecstasy and desire, passion and Love...

and when it was all over.. we held one another.. and peeped into each others soul. It was love... Love.. Love of the Titans.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Wide open are your arms  
the sun is a small paintbrush  
every daybreak it draws  
exposes you as new as ever!  
  
The surges in the billows  
blow out swimming clouds  
across the globe.  
No they don’t splash out to  
the starry thrillers on the sky  
they all are a dwarf bunch  
draws down to you kind Moon:  
Down to earth on the ground  
spares the heap for all
for the day for the noon.  
  
Then you are there too
far afar, where is nothing
but you the lotus in bloom
on uncharted water.  
Who can describe it better  
everyone is lost for words!
Bison Apr 2016
I brought the mountain to the north
You brought my world to a quiet halt
You are breaking my fourth
I stare through the wall

This is my defeat
Shall I fall, a broken, empty shell
The sword lies bloodied, unsheathed.
You fell from  heaven only to bring me hell

We're moving further
Further away from perpetual motion
Drifting towards the bottom corners
Of these uncharted churning oceans

Set my soul alight
I will follow you down
Heart rending slight
Slow comprehension  of fury and sound

You were never quiet
I just couldn't seem to ascertain
How you screamed through the night
As I dragged my mountain, dreading the night you sang

Sanguine devotion to the one great commotion,
Quarantined joy, in this helpless slow motion
Disaster. We won't know our hearts until we tear ourselves apart.
Alabaster skin torn asunder, to reveal broadcasted surrender to the dark
Vexren4000 Dec 2018
Territories unseen,
Places unified,
Loves lost to time and regret,
Unknown lives, lived by hidden people,
Times dissipated from now,
Humanity lost,
To seas uncharted,
To the depths of my heart,
All so foreign to me.
A call for help,
Disguised as poetry.
A guise worn
Unknown.


©BAS
Nico Julleza May 2017
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
I'd tried to run but you led me to wait
through surging snows and rusting gates
I'd crumple but you pushed me out of subtle
what is it that you want from me?

Is it my faith, my future longed I have made?
my dignity I had redeemed, or my felicity for your company

Oh Solemn, where can you be?
when uncharted shores crushed my midnight sea
aren't you free? or just uncanningly meek
like sheep upon my feet, though as I was blinded to see

why did you ever hide away from me?
why did you led me up, when you ****** me down?
why did you give me light when I'm ready to see?

just so as you disappeared, unsaid, unheard, unread from me
Oh, Solemn did you ever try to care for me?
"Loneliness triggered the man to think if someone really cared for him"

#solemn #care #love #vulnerability #obscurity #questions #answer
(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
Skaidrum Nov 2016
...
"Quiet are your affections this hour,
as sun~fire courts moonlight"


I've sown gardens of stars
on your chest with my lips,
watched as peach-colored sunrises on
your shoulder blades dissolve before me,
and traced the ladder to heaven
along the sky of your spine
with my tongue.

You drank silver from my skin
like it was holy water, and you told me
that my body was like a godless church,
holy for no reason other than itself.

you told me I was beautiful,
so many times


This uncharted territory, porcelain to the touch;
we are blood in water in love, serenading the
angels that are intoxicated with our naivety;
Our bodies eclipsed and your hands find
the flecked gold that leans too heavy on one side,
and you placed all of the diamonds
back into my bones without
hesitation.

Whenever you kissed me
I knew love by all of its names
in all of it's tongues of flowers and coasts
and we drink up this disease knowing that
the only cure is each other.

However,
another heart's jealousy is a carcass in the ashtray,
and I have seen this hatred before;
I know that some ghosts prefer not to be woken;

Find fossils of heartbreaks
in the fountain of doves,
because if you searched her heart you'll find
empty hallways begging to be filled with
your sunlight.

As you are spellbound with
blue ponds of smoke and dynamite eyes
you reminded me once more,
I am a museum.

The darkness will feed upon his luna,
so the sun wishes to marry his lover,
~so look at me~

The moonlight is merely sunlight in a white dress
...
The scent of rain haunts me.
© Copywrite Skaidrum
What's the point of touching you, of being this close to you if there's someone else's name woven in your soul,etched on your skin?
I could spend eternities tracing figures on your body,
Familiarize myself with every kink,every curve, every uncharted territory,
With the steady hum of your heart against my palm,
With the way you cage me in your arms but all these would be nothing but futile
For I'll never find shelter inside your skin—somebody else's home I'm trying to fill in.

I could spend all night,memorizing you by heart like the back of my hand
But yours would still feel limp in my grasp,longing for another's touch to lead you back where you'll truly feel alive.
I could break you down line by line as if you're my favorite rhyme
Yet you'll never fit in right in these writings of mine—you belong in someone else's art.

There is nothing comforting in these nights we share,when you'll always be on the look out for another in the crowd as I search your face,trying to find any trace of affection granted as mine.
The rain can't wash you out of my system if you always pull me back down, hold me close under these sheets of ice,keeping me from the downpour outside.
To tell you the truth,I'd rather be there than be searching for warmth in the coldness of your presence.
I'd rather run towards the uncertainty of the night than stay with you under these blinding lights,where with every word I speak,I come closer to my inevitable demise.
Leaving offers more sanctuary for here there is nothing—absolutely nothing for me.
-W.
Lol what even
Krysel Anson Sep 2018
So this has been where you were
all this time. Especially the kids
that looked up to you.

In between being forced by your intelligence officers
to beat up your comrades
and then *******,
or else die.

This dark uncharted
neglected geographical treasure:
your breathing heart's chamber.

Looking straight out
what is always here with us
regardless of all our lies and grand
machines of escape.

This is the price you paid
for being able to bring life and sustain it.
Until now, we are still trying to see through
this visual masterpiece: another drug mule caught.

Drugs, sometimes as if the sullen reminder of our collective
human attempt at remembering our real treasures
and how we have lost them: A grandmother has 7 packs taped around her body, like a parasite but also like a baby mammal,
or an omen of something else yet to be remembered
and said out loud.

One day or day one, a friend would always remind me
when sober. We step into understanding ourselves better
or we keep making things to express
unresolved fears and anguish.#
dr gabor mate and clarissa pinkola estes works
Conor Martin Oct 2018
There are those who do not know
The secret line, A willows toll
Sands of time wait for me
A raging ocean foaming to consume souls
The blinding light, Of corrupt minds eye illuminates the way
Draws our ship in and spills dementia across the bay

Mixed Signals, On uncharted seas
Breach the waves, Crashing down on me, Minds eye of the storm, See the forks of lightning, ether torn the world cracks open dawn to see

Atop the cliffs we clearly see
The looming scale of misery
Brought from this mind eating disease
One light push is all it takes, Even the effort from the breeze
Over the Edge and back to the rocks
Its all over and over again, Repeating pain by rewinding the clocks
Square one, Same old ****
Back at it again
Calling all ships without Captains
Its okay to not be okay
Just find the right light to guide your way
Past the wrecks and through the bay
Into the safety of loving arms, Your Home awaits
Forget the unforgiving oceans and raise your glass to the souls
it has claimed, Now heaven knows
Tronel Aug 2018
Broken phrases
Heap
like plastic
in our oceans

Words don't rhyme
Anymore
they're drifting further from the shore

Writing stops
abruptly.
Cause: writers block.
The words no longer flock
like birds

A heavy pen
ran out again
No ink
No colour
hands find another lover.

Sentences stay
incomplete
pushing us
towards defeat

We write
the words that discover
our lovers'
uncharted perks.

We're all just longer poems
that needed a little work.
-Tronel V.
Emeka Mokeme Sep 2018
I definitely don't understand
how to get a hold onto this
complex and dynamic
complicated and sensitive
thing that mesmerizes me.
I'm so breathless and short
of words to delve into the
heart of the one whose heart
is disturbed by the troubles of
the knots he can't untie.
How would you explore this
uncharted course of the heart.
You must be a psychic and
a clairvoyant to delve into
the habitat of the divine.
The heart is deeper than the deep,
like a deep still pond with no clue
of what lies within and nothing in
sight to give it away,
but just silence and a sense of awe.
You must have depth to
deeply go deeper than the
submarine to know
the thoughts of the heart.
This heart of mine
is a thunderbolt and
I'm so powerfully pulled inwardly
on my quest to make it right.
Knowing that I am nothing
but just a dreamer meddling
with something so profoundly different.
©®2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Shofi Ahmed May 2018
Are you a witness of the precise moment
on that very proverbial, unpredictable day
when everyone did mind the gap
but the Ramadan moon took a step?

None could time it at first, as if it got out
from a black hole or an uncharted water well:
down the trail, who can tell?

Now a day or two is gone, has passed by.
The moon is in the fast lane soaring high,
and fills the orb with serene soft light.

Ah, buddies catch up, the suave fireflies.
Tons of these stay awake in the night.
Before they fly away, vanishing afar
into the epic portion of the night.
A confluence down the black moon,
only to catch a glimpse of any pattern:
a morning star or a forming pin bar,
a slice of light on a gingerly lit chart.
Premiering the Eid moon’s first blush.
Yet, if only one can time it, when will it flash?

Deep down a black moon, all eyes black out.
Still, how can one sigh though? Ah,
the unpredictable black moon, should it show
just a peek, showers the earth with Eid’s joy!

Will it show up in no time, far from the sight—
galaxies light up the shady nook of night.
A houri in the Eden rings the alarm.
The veiled bunch of fairies push the sky.
Every star throws its hat, only to tell first
when a crescent moon will crop up
And with the first spill of moonlight,
topflight it goes, pushing the boat out!

A walk down the black moon
without a light or water gone into the blue,
As though walking dead, blindfolded.
No pattern, decimals of Pi undefined by design,
but spot on gets to the apex spike!

There’s still an unmarked blank space
the light on this way doesn’t paint.
And this time, the time won’t tell
is there anyone who can is anyone’s guess.
So should the houri dare to run, then
cherubic she be on her flawless flaw,
rushes to ask the Queen of Heaven!

Oh, good luck to her, a wild one.
Time the black moon, its first glance
precisely when the Eid moon will crop up.
Enlighten us, we are more than curious.
Tell us, too—don’t just tweet it to the stars.
A poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Dev Aug 2018
Wet nose, four paws, and a wagging tail
follow right beside on an uncharted trail.
We're exploring, but just what for?
National treasure or maybe folklore?
He doesn't know and neither do I.
On a day like this we don't need to ask why.
I stop for a break and he looks right at me.
"C'mon Dev. Let's make it snappy."
I can't disappoint those big brown eyes.
He never complains, frowns, or tells lies.
His only intention is to insure I'm happy.
So I stand back up and give him a patting.
We march on in search of who knows.
Through the highest highs and the lowest lows,
There is always an adventure just around the bend.
He's not only a puppy - he's my hairy best friend.
when i was younger
i dreamt of sailing
so i bought a boat

i've been adrift for years now and
sometimes i'm surprised by
how easily the wind has bent me and beaten me back

the amount of water i've swallowed trying to stay afloat almost choking
thirsting for something fresh
while ******* salt

the blisters the sun has
scorched on my skin
anticipating the wind
would cool me

exposing myself to the harsh reality of navigating uncharted waters
all because i dreamt of sailing
and I've set the course

but there's vast oceans yet to cross
and the more I drift
it seems the sea is really no different
than a dessert

and i am sailing
in sand
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